Destiny
by Mick Howell
Summary: Arya and Gendry had different destinies. They defied them.


ASOIAF

Destiny

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: Arya and Gendry had different destinies. They defied them.

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"Why are you still awake?" Arya whispered when she looked over at her husband. The room was dark except for the hearth across the room, but firelight reflected in his blue eyes and allowed Arya to see his face dimly. Gendry looked down at her, her head resting on his bare chest, and he looked apologetic. "No reason…just can't fall asleep is all." He whispered back, then he went back to staring at the fire. Arya rolled her eyes and sat up. "Don't lie to me, Stupid Bull." She said. "Tell me what's wrong. Have a nightmare? Something troubling you?" Gendry looked at her and then away again, back at the fire.

"I'm afraid to go to sleep." He said after a moment. Arya looked at him with concern.

"Nightmares about the war?" She asked, already reaching out towards him. He took her hand and squeezed it, but shook his head. He sighed deeply.

"Sometimes…I'm afraid I'll go to sleep, and when I wake up, I'll be that same thirteen year old boy in King's Landing, working his days away as Tobho Mott's apprentice, never concerning himself anything or not much else than swords and armor. The same boy who never left the city he was born in once in his life, became a knight, fought a war, or met you. Everything we went through together would have been nothing but a dream. All this," He gestured around their large chamber. The chamber of the Lord and Lady of Storm's End. "A dream. A dream sent by the Gods just to torment me." He said, and his expression was anguished. Arya took his face in her hands and made him look at her. "What we went through, what we did, was no dream. Or even a nightmare. Nothing as horrific as the things we saw exists anywhere but in the real world." She whispered. "None of this is a cruel trick, Gendry. Sadly, many of those horrible things really happened to us. They weren't just nightmares we could wake up from and then forget. But the pay off is that all the good things that happened aren't just dreams that we can wake up from. When you wake up, all of those things, the good and bad, we'll still be real."

Gendry smiled at her, but in a sad way. He reached out and ran thumb over her cheek. "I was never meant to have all this. I was never meant to be Lord of anything, marry a Lady let alone a Princess, or do anything but bang away at swords and polish my helmet all day. I was destined to be a blacksmith, maybe open up my own forge someday, make some coin, marry a baker or tanner's daughter, and have a bunch of children and hope none of them starved, my daughters didn't become whores, and my sons didn't get hauled off to the Wall. That's the only life a lowborn bastard is supposed to hope for, and even that was more than I should have expected. If Varys hadn't paid my apprentice fee, I'd still be sitting in Fleabottom, probably end up a petty thief, lose a hand or get shipped to the Wall if I was ever caught, and maybe leave a few bastards lying around with a tavern wench or two."

"I don't like all this talk of you having children with other women." Arya grumbled with crossed arms. Gendry laughed then, and Arya smacked his chest. He only laughed more and yanked her down to hold to his chest. Arya shrieked and flailed, but Gendry rolled over, pressing her down into the mattress. Arya hit his chest with balled up fists, struggled to free her self, but laughed the whole time along with him. She could see a big, stupid grin on Gendry's face, and it made her mad and made her laugh all at once. Gendry nuzzled into her neck, made his self comfortable with her beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, and their laughter died down slowly.

"I wasn't destined for this either, you know." She said when she caught her breath from laughing so hard. Gendry snorted. "Yes, you were. You were born a Lady." He grumbled into her hair. Arya rolled her eyes. "Maybe, but I still wasn't meant for all this. My father once told me that I was meant to marry a Lord and rule his castle,"

"Which you do." Gendry murmured. Arya ignored him.

"My sons would be Princes and knights and Lords, he said."

"Which they are, or at least are going to be one day."

"And I told him no. No, that wasn't me, I said." Arya whispered and the scene playing out in her head. She remembered it so clearly. She would have cried, simply remembering her father's face and voice, but she held herself together. "I was sure I was destined for something different. I was going to be different from my mother and Sansa…and I wasn't wrong. But I wasn't right either." Gendry pulled away from her neck to look at her confusedly.

"Both I and my father were right. As a Lady, I was destined to marry a Lord, probably a Northman if my father had his way, have his children, rule his holdfast but serve him as well, and be courteous and ladylike as Septa Mordane taught me. I felt that I was destined for much more. At nine, I just knew I was going to carry a sword at my side, ride around doing things like a hero in the stories, and flout every one of my septa's lessons. I was never going to be a lady like Sansa. I wasn't going to moon over knights and I was going to spit on southron flowery ways. I was going to be friends with bastards and butcher boys and blacksmiths. I was going to run around with Nymeria and have adventures." Arya grinned wickedly up at her husband. "Now, look at me. I'm a _Lady_, the wife of a _southron_ _Lord Paramount_, _bastard_ of a King, former _blacksmith _and _knight. _I rule his castle, but we both know I don't serve you. I use my courtesies and behave like a lady when I have to, but I still carry a sword and ride around with Nymeria, having the occasional adventure. I've done the things that heroes did in the stories, but I've also fulfilled the role of the ladies, too. I've learned to love the south as much as the North, I've made friends with bastards, butcher boys, and blacksmiths—married one, too—and lords and ladies, as well. And even some royalty." Arya leant up and pressed her lips to a dumbstruck Gendry's. That seemed to shake him back to his senses, because he smiled down at her. "I wasn't destined for this. I was supposed to have one future or the other. The one I wanted and the one my father saw for me. Instead, through some mix up, I got both." She whispered against his lips. Gendry kissed her.

When they pulled apart, breathing heavily, Gendry was smiling broadly. "The Gods must hate us." He said. "Defying our destinies like we have…You don't suppose they'll try to punish us for it, do you?" He asked. Arya feigned a moment of thought and then smiled at him. "Let them try. We've faced worse than angry Gods." She said.

"Confident, are we?" Gendry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I've killed a dragon with a bow and arrow. I have every right to be confident." She replied and Gendry laughed, rolling onto his back. Arya moved to straddle him.

"That's another thing I'm sure wasn't in your prewritten destiny. Twelve year old girl kills the great green dragon Rhaegal with nothing but a bow and arrow." Gendry said.

"A weirwood arrow."

"I still bet the Gods weren't counting on it. If they were counting on anything that happened to us."

"Maybe they weren't. Maybe one single event changed the course of our lives and our destinies forever." Arya said. Gendry looked at the ceiling of their chamber thoughtfully.

"I wonder what." He whispered. Arya shrugged and lied down so her head once again was pillowed by his chest.

"My father's death, perhaps…" She whispered back. Gendry's hand came up to comb through her hair. She sighed, liking the feeling.

"Varys not paying my apprentice fee and having Tobho put me out." He said.

"My father becoming Hand of the King."

"The Hands coming to ask me questions."

"Jon Arryn's death."

"That's it." Gendry said with certainty. "That's what changed everything." Arya felt her eyelids drifting closed. She struggled to stay awake a few moments longer. "Yes. It really did." She whispered. "It changed…everything."

Gendry didn't reply and he stopped stroking her hair. When Arya looked up, she saw his eyes were closed. Beneath her, she could feel his breathing had evened out, his bare chest pressing against hers rhythmically. Thankful that he seemed finally be at peace with his worries, Arya let her eyes close and sleep take her once again.

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**A/N: This idea literally struck me just an hour ago and I had to write about it. **

**Please review and check out my other stories. And if you're wondering about the next "Fawn" spin-off, I'll start work on it today and have it by tomorrow. **

**See ya!**

**Edit: To the second reviewer of this story who simply called himself or herself Guest. **

**You little troll. I've deleted your review. I will not stand for trolling, especially if it's not even funny. This is the second story of mine that you have trolled with the same exact words. Do you do this to every story that doesn't support your precious Stannis? Stop it. Don't review if you don't have a legitimate commentary on my work or anyone else's. If you liked it, or have a real criticism of it, feel free to review, but if not, just move along and go crawl under a bridge where you belong.**

**Yours truly, Mick Howell **


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